I'll Remember You
by sixpetalpoppy
Summary: "When she slept that night her mind teased her with outlandish visions of herself and a younger, fuller version of his face. In her dreams, they were happy; his face wasn't haunted with crippling grief, he was laughing and happy and passionate and sarcastic." Blackinnon, AU(ish), set during the third book.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters used in this story, it's all JK.

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To say she was shocked when she saw his gaunt, drained face leering from the television screen would be an understatement indeed. She was shocked, but she couldn't have told you exactly why. It was a face she recognised, a face she knew but couldn't quite place; the man's haunted gaze resonated within her mind but she couldn't really comprehend why. She had no recognition of him, no name to put to the (quite frankly scary) face; she just accepted it, and she grieved.

When she slept that night her mind teased her with outlandish visions of herself and a younger, fuller version of his face. In her dreams, they were happy; his face wasn't haunted with crippling grief, he was laughing and happy and passionate and sarcastic. She sat at the kitchen table and smiled at the memory, no. Not the memory. The dream. It was a dream, she told herself. You don't know that man, Marlene. He's a murderer. He's escaped from prison. He is dangerous.

This wasn't the first time that Marlene's mind had fashioned strange, outlandish dreams of magic and witchery, of war and a dangerous threat veiled by the foolish optimism of youth. Since she'd been found in the hospital twelve years ago they were a regular occurrence, she often dreamed of a time before her memory loss, dreamed that she'd had this magical, fictional life, full of friends and laughter and love. It was all a lie; a ruse that her cruel mind dredged up to torture herself when she slept and in the hours after.

There were no friends, nobody had come forward to 'claim' her, no family to be found; they had all vanished. There was a gap in the records of her life, from the age of 11 to 21 there was no trace of her, not until she'd been found on that blustery, wet day. She'd had pneumonia, was found lying in a ditch, with no memory of the past ten years and few from before that too. She could remember some details: her name and age, primary school friends, her mother's laugh, her sister's flare for art; but, when pressed about her secondary school, or what on god's green earth she'd been doing wandering around the Scottish moors in the middle of October, well she hadn't a clue.

She sat in the small break room and stared absently at the paper in front of her, the mad man (Black they called him) staring up at her, still and unnerving in his mental disarray. She supposed it was understandable that she would be frightened of him, he was a murderer on the run in England after all, but, if Marlene was honest with herself, the emotion she felt wasn't entirely identifiable as fear. Instead she felt something more akin to anticipation, she was restless, awaiting an upheaval she couldn't foresee; she knew she should be scared but she wasn't. Marlene McKinnon was excited, because for the first time in twelve years (twelve years of resigned acceptance to her permanent confusion), Marlene felt thrills of happiness.

"You alright, Marly dear?" asked her elderly co-worker Janet, shaking her out of her thoughts.

"Pardon?" she asked, quietly, looking up to Janet with a slightly glazed expression on her face. It wasn't out of character for Marlene to be easily lost and quiet so Janet wasn't too surprised by the girl's despondence. In the years she'd known her she'd come to accept and anticipate Marlene's moments of withdrawal, sometimes lasting for days. It was an aspect of her personality that Janet accommodated for with constant chatter, as if trying to pull Marlene back to her using her voice as a rope.

Janet smiled indulgently, "I said, are you alright, Marly dear?" she raised her voice as she spoke, to allow for her own poor hearing. "You were withdrawn again, I'd offer you a penny, love, but we'd be here all day!" It was then that Janet noticed the paper in front of Marlene, untouched and unopened, the gaunt face on the front made the woman widen her bright blue eyes in trepidation. "Ah, Black, worrying business, isn't it dear? Never mind, though, don't worry yourself over it, girl. He won't be coming 'round here. What's a man like that going to do in suburban Surrey, 'eh?"

"Sorry, Janet?" asked Marlene with a shake of her head. She hadn't been listening, the woman's voice was gentle and she often listened to the lilt of her voice rather than the gossip she often spouted.

"Black, dear! Black! Away with the fairies, aren't you? I said don't _worry_, dear. He won't be coming 'round here, mark my words."

"Oh, of course not, Janet; I wasn't worried. I was just thinking, the news, they're so vague, what did he do? What could he have done that was so bad that they're hunting for him like this?"

The earnest curiosity in Marlene's voice startled Janet, the younger girl was rarely particularly inquisitive, she often kept herself to herself, offering the older woman few pieces of information about her life or her thoughts and opinions. "He's a murderer, Marlene. That's all we need to know, don't be morbid, girl." Her voice was stern and hard and it alarmed Marlene (as was Janet's intention). Janet was rarely forceful with Marlene, letting her carry on at her own pace, rarely taking her to task, but Janet was scared now. Marlene's curiosity, her morbid interest in the savage murderer before them, no good would come from it, it needed to be stopped then and there.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Janet." Marlene told the woman sat opposite her, Janet's eyes were hard and forceful, she stared at Marlene and her gaze was deep and penetrating, as if she were trying to will all curiosity out of the girl.

Janet's face softened, but only marginally, "none taken, Marly; now, get back to work, girl."

Sirius Black sauntered through the streets of Little Whinging, well, he sauntered as much as a big black dog could. 'Act like you own the place', that was his motto, a residue of his parents' pureblood mentality, although he'd never acknowledge it. He'd expected to be euphoric having escaped Azkaban, he'd expected the clean air and the absence of dementors to be a liberation of his heavy heart and mind, but they'd alerted the bloody Muggle authorities and he was having to watch his back more so than ever.

It was only a dogged determination to save Harry and bring Peter to justice (well, Sirius' brand of justice) that kept him going, that pushed the blood through his arteries, he'd have given in much sooner if it wasn't for his purpose. He'd made a promise, when Harry was born he'd promised James to look after him, Sirius had already let James down in so many ways, he couldn't fail him again.

He fell onto his hind legs and lowered his head, overwhelmed with morose emotion, James. James and Lilly, he'd all but killed them himself, he'd betrayed everyone because of his stupid, idiotic, blind trust. He'd trusted Peter and Remus unconditionally, they were his brothers, his family, they'd never betray him or James, yet he'd suspected Remus. It never crossed his mind that it could have been Peter who'd been the turncoat, Peter had had it _so_ good, he had friends, he had protection and he was loved! Did the esprit de corps of the marauders mean nothing to him?!

Sirius wouldn't allow it to happen again. He could see it unfolding, he could see Peter's plan, he knew how Peter thought, what he'd do next. He knew the danger that Harry and his friend were in, he knew what he needed to do. He knew it was time to commit the murder he'd been imprisoned for.

"Sirius? What are you doing? Where are we going?" asked Marlene, as she was through the ministry corridors. Sirius was pulling her along but not playfully like he was prone to, he was rough and forceful, a Black on a mission. Wizards and witches were staring, they watched as the couple rushed past, one determined the other confused; some of the people they passed thought to stop them, but none intervened. These were dark times; Voldemort was running around England spreading madness and disarray, very few would have given a tissue to a crying child lest they unintentionally brought down the wrath of the Death Eaters upon themselves.

"Shut up, Marly. For once, just shut up and do as you're told. Follow me, don't ask questions, keep it shut, yeah?" Marlene knew this Sirius, there was darkness in his voice, yes, but it was borne from protectiveness not aggression. Whatever he was up to, she knew, he had her best interests at heart. Past experience had taught her to go along with his moments, his moods, until he decided it was time to enlighten her, then she could argue or go along with whatever hair brained scheme he'd come up with now. Marlene McKinnon would be the first to admit that theirs was not the healthiest of relationships.

They reached the Atrium and Sirius nearly sprinted across the busy hall, she tried to match his pace but he moved as fast as he could and his strides were long. He made no effort to be covert as he led her past the Fountain of Magical Brethren and through the crowds that convened around it; all his efforts seemed to be focused on reaching the row of fireplaces and the exit as swiftly as possible.

Marlene rolled her shoulder as he finally stopped, Sirius was gentle now as he guided her into the fireplace next to him; the contrast in character didn't surprise her. It was typical of Sirius, his mood was erratic but it was a trait she accepted and loved; yes, Sirius had his moments where he was entirely frighteningly unpredictable but they coupled with moments of sweet tenderness that were heart wrenching and a balm to his brasher moods.

He pulled her flush against him, wrapping an arm around her waist tightly and held her close; "hi," he said, she scoffed at the simplicity of it.

"Where are we going, Sirius?" she asked, frankness in her voice, now his mood had settled she knew she could begin to break through to his thoughts and reasoning and her shoulder hurt enough that she was in no mood to be too accommodating.

He smiled, that cocky smile of his younger years, the smile that had made her swoon and fall for him so gracelessly at Hogwarts, it seemed like so long since she'd seen him smile such that she was taken aback. "Hogwarts!" he yelled, for the Floo's benefit and not her own, and he held her tight as they travelled.

Marlene woke up, the night was hot but the sweat covering her body wasn't solely from the heat of the night. Her heart raced as she sat up and reached to the bedside for the glass of water she always left out, she'd dreamt of him again. She was certain that she recognised the man now as being a younger imitation of Sirius Black, the callous murderer that had frequented the front pages of the tabloids for the past weeks.

She didn't know what it meant to dream of him, she thought she should be scared, that she should speak to someone. She'd nearly breached the subject with Janet but something about the way she'd spoken had dissuaded her; Janet wasn't her usual confidant, Marlene didn't really have one. She avoided too much interaction, lest she had to acknowledge the gaps in her memory. Her teenage years were completely gone, she'd long accepted that they weren't coming back to her any time soon; whatever had happened must have been so terrible she'd erased years and years from her mind. Certainly nothing good could have resulted in her being found in the middle of Scotland, a place she'd never visited in her life, the same day the remains of her family were found in Surrey.

Marlene didn't ask questions about her past and, to avoid questions from others, she chose not to socialise either. Her memory wasn't that good, she would forget things often, Janet called it being 'away with the fairies' but it was more than that, she'd forget whole conversations and days and months. Sometimes her mind was just blank.

So, when she started dreaming of a notorious murderer, who could Marlene turn to? Once again there was nobody, but this wasn't new and she'd grown to accept it. She put the water back on the bedside table and lowered herself to her pillow once again, if Sirius Black wanted to haunt her dreams with memories of times that never happened, she'd let him. She seemed happy in the dreams, at least. She felt content when she woke from most of them, so what harm could they do? Marlene closed her eyes once more and let herself dream.

* * *

Author's note: I didn't intend to start this, it just wouldn't get out of my head. It started as a one shot but I knew I wouldn't fulfil the story in my head if I contained it to a few thousand words, I'm aiming to keep it under ten chapters, I don't want this to be an epic. I just had this story in my head and I wanted to tell it. Feedback is always appreciated; if I'm being too English with my phrases let me know, I keep thinking I need to put in a glossary.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a nameless black dog wandering the streets of Little Whinging; the dog went unnoticed by most as, unsurprisingly, the occupants of the town had much greater concerns than the growing populace of strays. The dog had been lurking around for just over a month now and people were starting to notice him. Children pointed out to their parents his recurring appearance on the way to school, the postman recognised him and kept a wide berth and, while nobody made the connection, the number of newspapers and bottles of milk stolen from doorsteps had become a growing concern. They were going to raise the issue at the next town meeting.

The dog had lingered too long but he'd had no place else to go. He'd wanted to catch a glimpse of Harry before he headed north, that's what he had told himself. He'd kept to the bushes and the back gardens of Privet Drive, he'd rummaged through the bins in the early hours and he'd chased the cats to break up the monotony of the day. He'd only seen Harry once or twice though and the disappointment of this was almost too much to bear.

He'd wanted to know that Harry was well, that Harry was happy, that Harry was safe. The few weeks that Sirius had spent roaming Privet Drive though proved otherwise. Sirius Black's godson was far from well, he was far from happy and he was far from safe. Lily Evans' heinous sister had clearly neglected her ward, he was skinny (skinnier than James had been at thirteen), he was pale (although Sirius couldn't be certain that Harry hadn't inherited his mother's complexion), he was unkempt (possibly a sign of James' genetics) and he was unhappy. Harry's unhappiness was the part that stung Sirius the most.

It wasn't unheard of for a thirteen year old boy to produce so much emotional magic that he blew up his aunt, but it was quite uncommon. In Sirius' day it had generally been assumed that, after a few terms at Hogwarts, a child tended to have better control over his magic. Harry's erratic display worried him; Sirius had wanted desperately to enter the house, wand blazing, and duel James' brother-in-law, he'd wanted to scorn Lily's vile sister and mock their bullying son. He'd wanted to grab Harry and run, embrace him like he would've embraced James, held him and never let go.

Harry had stormed out and Sirius had watched, in dog form, as his godson pulled his hastily packed trunk down the street. Sirius followed, keeping his distance, his four legs moved without his instruction. He was captivated by Harry, obsessed with the young man in front of him; this was _James'_ son. James and Lily's son all grown up, how had it happened so _fast_? Where had the time gone? Had it really been twelve years? Twelve Christmases, twelve birthdays, twelve horrible, lonely Halloweens… Did Harry hear about his parents? Did anyone tell him how he had Lily's eyes? How he looked so, so much like James that it physically hurt? Did anyone tell Harry stories of his parents? How they'd fought and laughed and flirted and cried.

Before Sirius knew what he was doing he'd leapt forward and Harry had spotted him. His dark dog eyes met Lily's glittering green and, above all the emotion that overwhelmed Sirius, he saw Harry's fear. He saw him fall backwards in shock, shock that Sirius couldn't comprehend (did Harry recognise him in his dog form?). Harry thrust his arm up into the air, wand proffered to the sky, and Sirius knew what would happen next and he knew he had to run, he knew he had to leave lest someone see any glimpse of him but he didn't want to. He didn't _want_ to leave his godson looking so scared and so lost and so helpless in the middle of the night in Surrey but he had to and Sirius Black felt that, in all actuality, he'd failed Lily and James yet again.

Now Harry was long gone and Sirius had no reason to stay. He'd stuck around in case Harry had returned to his Aunt and Uncle but there had been no sign of him, save for the Aurors that visited the couple the night of Harry's disappearance. Just to be certain, Sirius had stayed in the insufferable town until September 1st, when he could be certain that Harry had left the South East and headed to Hogwarts. He felt assured that Harry would be safer after the 1st, knowing that Harry would be under the watchful eye of Dumbledore, with extra protection in place to guard against his monstrous, murderous self and whatever other beasties crawled out of the woodwork to hunt him.

Like Wormtail, Sirius thought darkly. Wormtail was the immediate problem. If Peter had worked his way into Harry's friend's life then Peter had easy access to Harry and that wasn't okay. Sirius couldn't settle with that knowledge. He needed to intervene, to find some way to remove the problem that was Peter Pettigrew before he saw any opportunities on the horizon to take advantage of. In Azkaban Sirius had heard plenty of rumours; rumours of the Dark Lord's return. Wormtail would surely hear of his master's newfound health and come running, and what better way to please his Lord than with the boy who was his downfall in the first place?

It was time for Sirius to head north, to head to Hogwarts; it was time to take action and stop Peter from finally finishing the betrayal he'd instigated so many years before.

The great red steam engine roared to life with an intimidating amount of smoke and noise. Marlene McKinnon had taken a seat on it a full half hour before and had been braced for each of those thirty minutes for any kind of movement except the traditional one. Marlene expected magic. When she'd seen the steam train before her she'd assumed, quite wrongly, that the train would be powered by less conventional methods, something less archaic than heat and water, something magic.

She was both disappointed and relieved when the engine roared into life with more familiar movement, maybe her understanding of life wouldn't change completely, just a little bit. If small things like this stayed the same, Marlene thought that she could probably cope in the end.

Lily Evans had made a friend. She was quite proud of this accomplishment as (counting Severus) she now had _two_ magical friends. Lily had decided that she would declare her new found friendship (with a Miss Marlene McKinnon from Kent) by linking arms with the blonde girl for all the world (or at least all of the Hogwarts Express) to see.

The two girls looked a strange pair; one was of average height, blonde and had a heart shaped face while the other was lithe, tall and a natural redhead. Lily thought her face was just round enough that she didn't resemble her elder sister (or, in Lily's meaner moments, a horse) and was quite happy with her eleven year old appearance, while Marlene was self-conscious lest her rounder face was deemed chubby by any passing criticism. Neither girl had anything to worry about, of course, but at eleven years old (and in their teenage years ahead of them), their contrasting appearances left both of them with a niggling desire to compare themselves.

James Potter and Sirius Black didn't care for comparing Lily Evans or Marlene McKinnon, neither thought it particularly necessary. But then James and Sirius were also eleven year old boys more preoccupied with dungbombs, showing off their transfiguration skills and whose fake wand turned into a more impressive chicken.

There was an unspoken agreement between Lily and Marlene that they would sit next to each other in lessons; they'd met as two nervous muggleborns on the train the day before and, after both being sorted into Gryffindor, had each silently pledged to have the other's back. They'd sat next to each other during the feast last night (where they learnt that Marlene loved roast chicken and Lily was more partial to beef), they'd travelled up to their dormitory together (a room they happily shared with two other girls, Alice and Sarah) and eaten breakfast together the following morning (where both were too nervous to eat much more than toast). The pair were becoming fast friends indeed.

As they entered the Charms room Lily was visibly excited for the impending lesson, there was a bounce to her step and she was eager to get a 'good' seat; Marlene on the other hand was more anxious than excited, what if she wasn't smart enough? What if they'd made a mistake, she didn't really have magic and the letter went to the wrong girl? Would they kick her out there and then? Would she at least get a refund on all those expensive books her mother had had to buy? She'd voiced her concerns that morning to Lily and Alice in the dorm but the other girls had laughed at her nerves, "don't be silly, Marly," they'd told her. "You got your letter; it had _your_ name on it! You'll be brilliant, just wait and see!"

Marlene didn't particularly feel that her nerves were 'silly' at all, but for fear of scaring off her newfound friend, she bashfully accepted Lily's words. In Charms she settled into her seat, next to the red headed witch, and placed the books, parchment and quill (that she still struggled to write with, another worry) in front of her. Lily was sat up straight, craning her neck to try and see the tiny Professor. Marlene had directed the other witch further towards the back of the room than she'd wanted to sit, "Lily, we're already two muggleborns, let's not draw more attention to ourselves, yeah?" she'd argued with logic that even eager Lily Evans couldn't dispute.

As the teacher began his introduction, "Hello, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Professor Flitwick and welcome to your first year of Hogwarts and Charms!", the four first year Gryffindor boys rushed into the classroom, faux apologies on their lips.

"Oh, _honestly_," Lily whispered to Marlene. "Showing up late for the first lesson, it's just _rude_!"

The boys (who introduced themselves to the teacher as James, Remus, Sirius and Peter) took the remaining four seats in the room, James and Sirius behind Lily and Marlene while Remus and Peter sat at the front next to a pair of disgruntled Ravenclaws; clearly Lily wasn't the only student ungrateful for the interruption.

Professor Flitwick continued his lesson but soon enough the attention spans of the wizards behind Lily and Marlene waned, "oi! Red!" whispered Sirius. "What do you call a Hufflepuff with two brain cells?"

Lily pointedly ignored Sirius' interruption and sniggers, while Marlene struggled not to turn around and enquire for the answer.

"I don't know, Sirius. What _do_ you call a Hufflepuff with two brain cells?" asked James, the smile on his face audible in his voice. It infuriated Lily, as it would continue to do for the next six years.

Marlene turned around just in time to catch the cocky smile break out across Sirius' face, "pregnant."

The two boys roared with laughter, the joke was terrible (it was undeniable), but that didn't seem to matter when they were sharing the euphoric feeling of a new friendship. Lily tutted, not appreciating the interruption while Marlene stifled a small smile, she thought she might like Hogwarts after all.

Sirius travelled north with a little difficulty, he didn't know how much Hogsmeade had changed in his twelve year absence and was wary of transforming and apparating only to be captured on his arrival. There were few places that he knew he could apparate to without being seen and none that he could trust his memory and safety on. Instead he combined walking and apparition, in dog form he would travel across the more populated parts of England (and then Scotland) while he apparated only when he knew it was safe.

It was a lengthy process, taking him nearly two weeks to travel the five hundred odd miles, but it was a safer one. It also gave him opportunity to plan and think (although Azkaban had offered little time for anything else) with a clear head for the first time since his capture. His main thoughts were, naturally, of Peter and Harry and the threat that Peter held; but sometimes, very rarely, he allowed his mind to drift and wander to the witch he'd left behind.

In the hours when Sirius had driven himself spare with thoughts of vengeance and grief he yielded to the memories of Marlene and the brief life they'd had before it had all gone to shit. His only comfort, as he travelled further north into the cold of autumn, was that he'd saved her from all of this. He'd saved her from the trial, James and Lily dying, Peter's betrayal; Sirius had given Marlene the chance to live a better life, a life without the prejudice, danger and heartbreak that went hand in hand with him and Wizarding society. He hoped she was happy.

AN. Awkward updates are, as ever, available on tumblr, I'm also posting this to AO3 if that's more your thing. Big thanks to c00k1es and the guests who reviewed the first chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

October had come to England and with it storms and rain. The Egham high street was dominated with people rushing from shop door to shop door, dodging the aggressive rain and bracing against the chilling wind. The cold snap wasn't unexpected, it was England, but it was quite unwelcome; that didn't stop the residents and merchants of Egham from gleefully waxing lyrical about the failings of the weatherman and the curse of global warming though. The truth was that the entire nation got a bit of a kick out of having something unavoidable to complain about, England couldn't change their shoddy weather, but they could protest it earnestly without treading on too many toes. It was probably the most culturally acceptable form of passive aggression known to man.

Marlene McKinnon welcomed the stormy weather. She welcomed the distraction given by the complaining customers who couldn't quite believe that (despite their 50 years of experience) the weather had turned so suddenly, she welcomed the pools and puddles that collected by the umbrella stand and in the doorway (giving her something to belligerently mop) and heavens bless the wet leaves that caked themselves to Greater London's train tracks, causing delays and meaningless angst across the country.

Anything, anything at all, to distract Marlene from the terrors of her dreams at night. They'd taken a darker turn lately, was it the weather or her discontent that had prompted the change? She wasn't sure. She dreamt of Muggles (what _were_ Muggles?) in danger, being scared for her life, sitting in a darkened cottage day after day, waiting, hoping that Sirius would return alive and not some Death Eaters ready for her with a curse on their lips. She didn't understand all of what she dreamt about, Muggles, Death Eaters and Sirius: it was all lunacy. But it scared her, and she knew that she should be scared, her dream-self wasn't safe and neither was the Sirius Black that, despite his well-advertised crimes, both her waking-self and her dream-self, had developed a fondness for.

* * *

Sirius Black hadn't made an appearance at the flat they shared in three days, six hours and twenty-two minutes and Marlene McKinnon was fucking petrified. Her first thoughts, after checking the calendar to see if she'd miscalculated the date of the full moon, were that he'd left her; Sirius had given her the boot like she'd always expected him to do eventually. It was only a matter of time before he would realise how much better he could do, she _knew_ this. Over the past two days (3 hours and ten minutes) she'd decided that Sirius wouldn't actually be that callous; yes, they'd been having problems. They'd been rowing an awful lot of late, but he loved her; Sirius Black had enough abandonment issues that he wouldn't just ditch her.

That was the thought that kept her sane over those horrid fifty-one hours that it would take for him to reappear, tired, bloody and kissing softly below her ear as if he'd never left.

* * *

The common room was almost empty, it was two days before the Christmas holidays and, what with the unprecedented recent snowfall, few could resist the siren song of creating havoc on the frozen lake. It was for this reason that Marlene McKinnon hadn't considered that the common room might be a poor choice of hiding place and exactly why she was so dismayed when Sirius Black made an appearance (the odds of which were beyond unlikely).

"You've been avoiding me," he stated plainly as he fell into the seat on the sofa beside her. He pointedly chose to ignore her shocked expression and attempts to edge away from him.

She didn't even bother to look abashed, it was true, they both knew it and Lily was refusing to cover for her anymore.

He sighed, frustrated but unsurprised, he didn't except her to make this easy. "Why Marlene? Why have you been avoiding me?"

Marlene continued to ignore him, the crackling fire the only sound in the room apart from Sirius' impatient sighs. He watched as she stared even harder at the Charms book in front of her, _Advanced Summoning and Knowing When to Duck_, Sirius sighed, bloody hell, Flitwick's coursework got duller every year.

She had nearly managed to pull it off, she realised fleetingly. She'd nearly made it to the holidays without confrontation. She'd been so bloody close. "I'm not sure this is working anymore, Sirius." She'd said it so quietly he could almost pretend he hadn't heard her.

She was on the edge of her seat now, rigid and poised, ready to bolt at the first opportunity; stubbornly (as if he knew anything else) Sirius refused to let her. "What the fuck brought this on?" there was an edge to his voice that hardly masked his distress.

He was hurting already, Marlene hadn't wanted it to be this way, she didn't want to hurt him. "I'm not convinced it's safe, Sirius." Her voice was placating as she tried to ease the reason of her decision into his consciousness. "You're a Black, I'm… a Mudblood. Really, this is for the best."

He cringed at her words, both 'Black' and that poison spewed by pure blooded bastards more concerned with 'cleanliness' than humanity. "And who the bloody hell told you that?" he asked, voice rising despite his attempts to keep calm.

"Nobody, it's obvious. You're a risk to me and I'm a risk to you. Why risk our lives on teenage frivolity?" all Sirius knew was that she was lying, he knew her too well and she of all people knew there was nothing frivolous between them.

"Snape? Mulciber? Regulus?" he listed, smiling with grim satisfaction as she barely flinched at his brother's name. "Right, you stay here; I'll see you later. Read your Charms, get that pureblood shite out of your head."

He was gone before she could argue and another wave of guilt coursed through her.

* * *

The smell of bergamot and lemon filtered through Marlene's daydream, dragging her back to the staffroom where an expectant Janet stared at her imploringly from across the dirty Formica table. She nodded towards the two mugs of tea on the table and Marlene accepted one gratefully. "You're not sleeping, Marly?" Janet asked with curiosity colouring her tender voice.

"Is it that obvious?" the younger girl asked with a small laugh.

"I'll say, you look knackered, love. Get that down you, it'll wake you up a bit and we can have a chat about it, 'eh?" she gestured to the mug of tea now cradled between Marlene's hands as she blew across the rim of the mug, diverting the steam and cooling the tea.

"You think a mug of weak tea will help cure a few weeks of bad dreams?" she asked, Earl Grey wasn't her usual preference and certainly didn't have the caffeine content she needed to become functional.

"Well, you shouldn't over-do it, dear," said Janet, a hint of chastisement in her voice. She notoriously frowned upon anything stronger than the weak brew as bad for the health and believed that coffee was the devil's work. It had made for some rather grumpy mornings in the past. "Now, tell me about these dreams of yours," she prompted, eager curiosity in her eyes and it was clear she was trying not to press Marlene too hard.

"Oh, it's just more of the same really," Marlene replied, waving her hand airily. For some reason she suddenly felt like she didn't really want to divulge the information to Janet and yet she couldn't help it when, after her dismissal, she said, "I'm dreaming about Sirius Black still, you see." She looked shocked, Marlene hadn't meant to say that, she'd just thought it.

"Sirius Black, dear? The murderer?" asked Janet, her interest heightened as she leant forward in her chair across the table.

"Yes, that's him. It's so odd, Janet. He's such a kind man in my dreams, yet dark. I can tell he's hurt."

"I've always said you've had an overactive imagination, Marlene. What kind of things happens in these dreams? You've been reading too many papers, I told you, didn't I tell you? But you didn't listen to me. I said to you, Marly, you hold back on them tabloids or you'll regret it, girl."

"You did, Janet. I remember and I listened! I did! But I'm drawn to him and I don't know why!" her voice spewed the embarrassing honesty before she could restrain herself and she cringed visibly at the crassness of her words.

"You like the danger, girl," she said with disgust. "You and all these other women, you're all the same, fantasizing over dark mysterious strangers, never taking any mind of why they're so ruddy dark in the first place."

"I can't help it, Janet."

"Oh, no," she replied mocking. "I'm sure you can't, just like I'm sure he won't be able to help killing you in your sleep when he learns of your infatuation with him. Now you tell me about these dreams, girl, and we'll see if I can save you from this mess you're putting your mind through."

And so Marlene told her, she told her of her dreams, the good and the bad. She told her about Lily, how she'd met her on the train to the school she dreamt of and how they'd become fast friends. She detailed the relationship, both at Hogwarts and after to Janet, although the details of both were hazy. She detailed their dream friendship, how much he made her laugh and how she'd helped him too. The compassion that Marlene showed Sirius was clear and it worried Janet, Janet who believed she knew a lot more than Marlene about the ways of the world and dreams and feelings. Janet warned Marlene off of her night-time fantasies but secretly revelled in them vicariously.

* * *

The rain slowed to a passive drizzle as dusk settled, it was a reprieve for the families of Yarrowford who'd only know the intense hammer of unrelenting torrential rain on their windows, roofs and skin for the past week. The deluge of rain had been so heavy that few were concerned with the world outside their window, opting instead to gaze intently at the fire in the hearth (for many had only lit their fires within the past week and there was still a novelty to it). Because of their distraction few people noticed the supposed mass murderer rummaging through the black bin bags lining the street waiting for collection, as was the way of the small village environment.

In dog form, and then as the rain got lighter and the night darker human form, Sirius wandered the streets of the village, ripping the straining black plastic effortlessly and rummaging with reckless abandon. His repulsion towards his actions had long faded with the gnawing hunger that sent palpitations through his body. He fell upon an old kebab with a cry of joy, the meat was sodden with bin water, flavourless and greening; he ate the few morsels with no restraint, no caution, he'd found food at long last and didn't care for the state it came in. In a second bag, in front of the house with the emerald green door and long faded wisteria, he found three mouldy oranges; he cackled loudly at James' voice in his head, encouraging him to take his vitamins, a habit he'd picked up from the more health conscious Lily. The oranges had a bitter and lingering sour taste that made his stomach heave but they were juicy and the flavour was so defined that he relished it anyway, sucking each segment dry desperately and loudly.

The travelling north had taken its toll on Sirius, his body had been still, unused and starved for too long. If he'd been skin and bones upon leaving his prison then he was even less now, his face (when he saw it) tired and gaunt, a skull wrapped in white, thin tissue paper and his hollow brown eyes showed the only signs of life with their conviction and frantic desperation. He was on edge constantly, ever nervy and jumpy; all he knew was getting to Hogwarts and killing Peter. It haunted his day, his night and his dreams. Except once.

One night, in the midst of a fever brought on by poor food and the rapidly changing cold weather, Sirius dreamt of Marlene. She was laughing in his dream, laughing at his foolishness (as she often did), "look at you!" she crowed. "You're soaked to the skin, again, you're going to catch your death, Sirius Black!" and he did, the next morning the pair were woken by the wet sneezes that erupted from his shaking body.

"Oh, Sirius," she sighed through her sleepy haze. It didn't stop her rummaging for the pepper-up though, and laughing as he spouted steam like a boiling kettle on the common room fire.

They spent the day in bed, Muggle telly playing in the background as she stroked his hair and he moaned, groaned and generally behaved like a sickly adolescent male. As much as she mocked him and berated his pathetic grumbling she nursed him, mopping his fevered brow, fetching tea and soup and (to his disgust) more and more potions. When night came she gave him some Ogdens mixed with honey and lemon, a Muggle cure he'd never had before, naturally it knocked him for six and she fell asleep with him breathing whiskey breath on her cheek.

Sirius awoke the next morning with the cobbles of the backstreets marking his cheek and bruising his back, he sobbed openly at the memory of his dream, tears leaving trails through the dirt that stained his cheeks. In that moment he was ready to give it all up. Harry had Dumbledore to look after him; he'd probably be safe without him, better even, when had Sirius been a boon to the Potter family anyway? He could go find Marlene, she'd look after him, he thought desperately; once she remembered what had happened. But Marlene was better off without him, she'd have a family now, children, little blonde haired girls laughing and smiling and making their first magic. They could even be at school with Harry now, if she'd moved on quickly. He hoped she had.

Harry, oh Merlin, he'd abandon Harry? Again? For the sake of his own happiness? When he'd already ruined the child's life once, twice, countless times? Sirius transformed in a fit of anger back to his dog form and urged himself on to a run, he had already crossed into the Scottish highlands and it wasn't far off now. He couldn't drag his heels any longer, he needed to save Harry, it was the least he could do, and finally commit the murder he'd been imprisoned for.

* * *

A.N.: there are parts of this that I'm a bit iffy about so my apologies, it would have been updated a week ago but I landed myself in hospital for a week which delayed everything. Don't Think Twice chapter is nearly finished and should be up by the end of the weekend, I wrote a Blackinnon oneshot for the Tumblr Secret Santa as well which is on my profile if you're interested. Feedback is fairly necessary, don't you think?


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Harry Potter universe! It's all JK as you well know.

* * *

Janet sighed, hanging her coat by the door as she shrugged it off; her day had been long and the tedium took its toll. Marlene was a slower task than anyone had ever imagined her to be thirteen years before when she'd been assigned. They'd been a long thirteen years. At first she'd been told to simply watch her and then, when it became clear that the Dark Lord was gone but not forgotten, to steer her life, for the remaining Death Eaters knew an opportunity when they saw one.

To Janet's knowledge of Marlene's life (and she had a fair bit), nobody had ever bothered to look for Marlene McKinnon and, in the more recent years, Janet had often felt that monitoring her was futile, if not entirely redundant. That was until Sirius Black's escape. The Muggle newspapers and television reports seemed to have been a catalyst for the Mudblood witch and, while before his escape Marly had hardly had a 'funny dream' of a night, now she was haunted by them. It was all getting ever so exciting.

But, despite thirteen years of hard work gaining the girl's trust, Marlene still held back and it was a constant source of frustration for the older witch. Still, Janet wasn't above more clandestine methods of persuasion, she was a dab hand at them really, and that was where the Veritaserum came in. It wasn't the first time she'd spiked the girl's tea (always in earl grey for the heady masking flavour of the bergamot), she'd done it before to guide her: make her too ill for the date with the nice chap from the chippy, make her more susceptible to Janet's influence and she'd even Imperiused her a few times in the past but Janet had always felt that that was a little crude and besides, look where it'd got Bella.

Now Janet was using the truth potion daily, just to get a full account of the dreams. Marlene had become worryingly secretive of late and Janet was scared that, if Sirius Black _had_ approached Marly, the witch wouldn't tell her. Out of boredom Janet also dabbled in potions that guided her dreams, Janet liked to be in control of the girl after all this time, and there was a sadistic joy from being able to hear about dreams the subject of which she'd dropped casually the evening before.

Marlene's relationship with the Mudblood Evans had always been of interest to the Death Eaters that survived. Evans had been a conundrum, why the Dark Lord had been so fascinated with her brood had baffled them and, now that Janet was able to steer Marlene's dreams, she was eager to learn of memories of the girl to report back.

* * *

The grime and dirt of the London Underground was eternal, of that Marlene McKinnon had no doubt. It had established itself at some point within the past hundred years and was quite comfortable where it was and had little to no inclination to vacate the tunnelled, tiled walls it had so stubbornly merged with. Not that Marlene had that much time to observe the dusty grunge as she threw herself up the Piccadilly Circus escalator, pushing those who so ignorantly ignored the signs requesting patrons to 'stand to the right' aside. Marlene was running late, she'd Apparated to one of the backstreets behind Elephant and Castle tube station in good time but, somehow, time had been absorbed on the Bakerloo line and by the time she'd burst out of the train carriage at Piccadilly, pushing many the Muggle tourist aside, she was supposed to have met Lily five minutes prior.

She paid no attention to the streets or tourists surrounding her as she flung herself out of the right exit and raced towards 181 Piccadilly. Afternoon tea at Fortnum's had been Lily's idea at the beginning of their seventh year; to celebrate her Head Girl badge, the two girls had taken tea at the infamous department store and the tradition had stuck. Now three years later, on the warmest October day Marlene had ever known, Lily had requested another 'afternoon of Muggle indulgence' (as they liked to call it) with little warning and Marlene was running late, it had seemed so important too.

Up the stairs and past tourists Marlene travelled, with as much 'dignified' haste as she could manage, she knew from the last time they'd visited (six months before, for it was expensive and neither could afford to indulge too often) and had also been running late that arriving out of breath to the pastel tea lounge was greatly frowned upon by everyone except Lily (who'd smothered her giggles behind a demure napkin). In truth, neither of the Muggleborn witches felt they 'fitted in' in the Fortnum's store, with its extravagance and upper-class nuances, but that was beside the point; it was Muggle and they so often felt out of touch with their Muggleborn roots that the palaver of it all was welcomed.

She saw Lily, her red hair a beacon she was ever thankful of in moments like these, and made her way to the small circular table not far from the bar, waving away the waiter who had approached to seat her. "Sorry I'm late, bit short notice really," she said sending Lily a pointed look and picking up the menu, despite knowing what she'd order anyway.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Marlene. I just, I needed to talk to you." She replied, making no reference to the grand setting of this 'talk' she clearly intended to have.

The pair ordered afternoon tea for two and as the waiter left Marlene looked at Lily frankly and asked, "what's Petunia done now?"

Lily sighed, "nothing, oh thank you," she said acknowledging the swift arrival of the tea tray. After making sure the leaves were steeping she added, "well, she's pregnant."

Marlene pulled a face, "urgh, that'll be an ugly baby."

"Too right, James keeps trying to get me to place a bet on whether it'll look more like a horse or a pig," she replied smiling, in truth Lily'd been a little put out by her sister's pregnancy, knowing that Petunia would do her utmost to ensure Lily had no involvement. With James' help though she was beginning to come to terms with it, he had been cracking jokes for a good week now, all well placed slights against Vernon 'Vermin' Dursley and his attempts at procreation; she'd even begun laughing at them now too, the pressure alleviated by her own news.

"Bloody hell," muttered Marlene with a humorous display of disgust, "that's an image." She reached across the table and lifted the lid of the teapot, checking the state of the tea. "Oh, it's ready, shall I be mother?" she asked, making to pour it.

"Oh, no," refused Lily. "I think perhaps I should."

There was a small smile on her face that Marlene didn't notice when she looked up at her friend confused, "it's just pouring tea, Lil'."

"Yeah, I know," she replied beaming now, her unavoidable smile lighting up the room. "I think I'll need the practice though," she added as she passed the teacup and saucer across the table to her friend.

Marlene looked excited and reverential, gaping at Lily's stomach as if expecting a sudden bump to emerge (they were witches, she'd argue later, it could happen), "holy shit!" she crowed, ignoring the furrowed brows of the neighbouring tables. "Does James know?"

"Yes! He went mad, he's been begging me to tell you all week so that he could jump Sirius," Lily rolled her eyes, as if wryly acknowledging that Sirius would be as involved in the upbringing of their child as James was.

"Oh, Merlin," sighed Marlene, "you realise what you've signed yourself up for?"

"Ha, yes, Sirius is to be Godfather, _if_ he says 'yes'," Marlene scoffed, as if he wouldn't, he'd be like a puppy at Christmas the second James asked. "Will you join him? As godmother, I mean."

Marlene looked like she'd been slapped, the shock was so evident on her face. No wonder Lily wanted to come to Fortnum's, a good cup of tea was definitely needed. She gulped from her cup inelegantly, "ruddy hell, Lily. Let a girl drink her tea before you throw something like that at her, yeah?"

Lily smiled obligingly and watched as Marlene cut herself a scone, screwing her nose up in disgust as the other girl added jam before the clotted cream (for she was partial to the cream going on the scone before the jam). Marlene bit into the loaded bun and sighed indulgently, relaxing into her chair and, as she toyed lightly with the teaspoon on the saucer, said "oh, alright then."

* * *

By their seventh year at Hogwarts Marlene McKinnon was experienced enough to know that, when Lily Evans stormed into the dormitory and flung herself down on her four poster bed with a loud sigh it was probably James Potter's fault. Lily lay on her front, making a half-hearted attempt to smother herself with her pillow, her red hair fanned out around her (having fallen out of its bun during her march from the Prefect meeting to the Gryffindor tower)and every so often a muffled expletive could be heard emerge from her vicinity.

Eventually, having reached the point where she _had_ nearly suffocated herself, she flopped herself over and sat up, looking to Marlene (who was still reading her book and ignoring her friend's rant), "Dumbledore," she announced grandly. "Is bloody batshit, Marly. I won't hear any different."

Marlene sighed under her breath, "what's James done now?" she asked, not bothering to look up.

"He rescheduled the entire rounds system just to disrupt the Slytherin Quidditch practice. Again."

Marlene smiled happily, enjoying anything that involved the Slytherin Quidditch team to suffer, "again? Brilliant, I bet Diggory was happy."

"Happy?" Lily asked with a bitter laugh. "Oh, he was bloody ecstatic, clapped him on the back and promised a bottle of Ogden's."

Marlene grinned, if she played her cards right some of that firewhiskey could make its way to her, not that the Marauders ever had much trouble procuring it, but none of them looked a gift Abraxan in the mouth when it came to freebies. "Nice! I wonder if Sirius can-"

"-Until I switched it all back again," she added smugly.

"What? Why would you do that to us?" asked Marlene, the Gryffindor Seeker and extremely invested in a Slytherin loss.

"Don't be melodramatic," replied Lily, waving her hand airily. "The Quidditch team are doing well enough and anyway, Potter was discriminating-"

"-we _need_ Slytherin to lose-"

"-It wasn't fair!"

Marlene looked at her friend frankly, her book long tossed aside. "They're Slytherins, Lily. They're not that inclined to fair either."

"Well," she said, grasping at straws. "Potter's a prick."

The abrupt change in subject took Marlene by surprise and she sighed in frustration at her friend's stubbornness and ever frequent James bashing, "he isn't actually."

Instead of a cutting remark, Lily sighed. "I know, but when he pulls crap like this it'd be a lot easier if he were," she muttered quietly, half hoping that Marlene wouldn't hear.

Marlene sat up on her bed and gave the redheaded witch a pointed look, "what'd be easier, Lil?" she asked tentatively. She already knew the answer, Lily had been lying to herself about her affections for approximately three weeks by her reckoning but she wanted to hear it from the girl herself.

"Liking him," she muttered. "I wouldn't like him if he were, Marly." It was then that Marlene realised that Lily was crying, not audibly but there were fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She crossed the room and settled on the soft mattress next to her where she began to rub small circles into her back soothingly.

"You need to stop trying to fight him, fight _it_," she explained softly. "It'll be easier when you do," as Marlene knew all too well with Sirius.

Lily shook her head, "Sev will never forgive me," she said before sobbing openly.

Marlene struggled to hide her disgust, "he has no right to _your_ forgiveness so fuck his. What with all the Death Eaters gallivanting out there, if you like Potter, you should tell him. Don't let it get too late."

Lily sighed begrudgingly, accepting her friend's words and wiping away the stray tears as she stood up. "I'll go find him then, shall I? I think I probably have an apology to make."

A wide grin spread across Marlene's face, "and I'll go warn Sirius, James is besotted with you. He'll be unbearable, Sirius'll need to be drunk or at least forewarned for this one."

* * *

The moon was nearly full when Sirius Black reached the front door of the Shrieking Shack. He'd opted for the Hogsmeade entrance, deciding that it was less conspicuous than wandering around the Hogwarts grounds in the early hours. With no wand to open the magically locked door, Sirius covered his elbow with the thick coat he'd stolen from a bin bag outside of a Salvation Army shop and smashed the thin glass with little difficulty, his bony elbows though weak were sharp enough to make light work of the window. Once the window was broken he could shimmy his way through the frame, for the first time thankful for his near starved body.

The downside of breaking the window open he soon realised was, of course, the draft that it allowed in, he moved a broken door from the floor (evidence of Remus' monthly habitations) and propped it up, hoping it would serve until he could scrounge up something better.

The house was dark, so dark that if it wasn't for his own memories of the structure, he would have been quite lost and several thoroughly stubbed toes. As it was he could make his way around the hovel with a fair amount of confidence. He walked from room to room in the pitch black, entertaining fond memories of the evenings before Remus' transformations and drunken lazy Sunday afternoons.

With his hand trailing along the wall beside him he reached the fireplace; here was where Peter had thrown up that time in sixth year after drinking too much gillywater. They'd all told him to take it slow, that it wasn't at all like the firewhiskey and butterbeer they knocked back with reckless abandon, it was sickly stuff and sick it made him. James, Remus and Sirius had howled with laughter as Peter proved them right, groaning in the hearth, cursing the foul drink he'd never touch again.

Sirius stroked the wood of the mantle, searching out the initials he knew to be carved there: 'JP4LE'. James had engraved that in their fourth year, they'd all laughed at him, of course. Lily Evans, the perfect student, wouldn't give reckless James Potter the time of day, let alone a second glance. Still, James has proclaimed that one day he would marry her, that they'd have beautiful redheaded babies with sparkling green eyes and astonishing Quidditch prowess; he'd been quite drunk at the time.

He found his way up the stairs and into the bedroom, Remus' bedroom. Why the school had provided an adolescent werewolf with a bed had often been a source of their speculation. It had never been used, save for being a scratching post. When Remus collapsed as the moon sunk and the sun rose it was usually in front of the fire his friends would light him; he could never seem to get warm again after the change. Although Remus hadn't used the bed, it was still in a state of disarray. The sheets were torn, the posts mauled and the stuffing of the mattress could be found throughout the shack. The damp had settled in the bed, it smelt musty and the sheets were bitter cold, the mattress had lumps and Sirius feared there were rats, he hated rats.

He couldn't light a fire so, after wrapping himself in one of Remus' old blankets (that still smelt like the musky wolf that was so familiar to Sirius' doggish sense of smell), he settled on the bed, holding himself tight and desperate for warmth. Eventually he drifted off and though his sleep was fitful and sporadic it was the best night's sleep he'd had in thirteen years.

The early morning light soon awoke him, there were no curtains and the solitary window faced the east. The light was warm and he dozed peacefully, stretching out he cracked his joints appreciatively. Absentmindedly he reached out for the Daily Prophet he'd pilfered from a bin in Hogsmeade the evening before, he scanned the front page paying little attention to Fudge's latest failures and was about to turn the page when he noticed the date: 30th October 1993. Today was Halloween. He sat up, shocked, disgusted that the day had nearly passed him by, even in Azkaban he'd never forgotten it – Merlin, the Dementors always liked to remind him, in their own special way.

Cradling his face his swore in disgust with himself, his gaze drifted to the Hogwarts towers he could faintly see from the window – was Harry awake mourning his parents from his bedside too? In that moment Sirius knew he would have to act tonight, if he could finally kill Peter on the anniversary of their death, well it would be quite fitting really. He'd go up during the Halloween feast, he decided. He'd be less likely to be spotted then, not that he cared once he'd got Peter. They could do what they liked with him after that.

* * *

A.N. Wow, did anyone else expect an update that quickly? I didn't… It's been brought to my attention that I originally wrote that there'd only be 10 or so chapters of this story, that is no longer the case! I've got a rough 25-29 mapped out.  
Massive thanks to JadedLights07 and c00k1es for their lovely reviews and to everyone else who has followed or favourited this story – it certainly motivates me!  
I wrote a Marauder centric oneshot this week that's also been uploaded, it's called 'Bored' and is, literally, about a bored Peter Pettigrew. I've always wanted to write more Peter and there's definitely more to come in this, I can't stand him but I find him fascinating.  
I posted a lot of my researching for this chapter on tumblr (sixpetalpoppy) and I'm very sorry about the sentence that had me sobbing openly to my friend on Steam for five minutes.


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